Colleen McCullough - Morgan’s Run

“Are ye privy to any information-apart from the general gossip which seems rife there-about the events at Jacob’s Well on the thirtieth of September last?”

“Oh, aye, that I am, sir.”

“To what effect?”

“Eh?”

“What do you know, Mr. Jones?”

“Well, to start with, Mrs. Joice ain’t no missus. She is just a whore who moved in with Mr. Joice.”

“Mrs. Joice is not on trial, Mr. Jones. Confine yourself to the events.”

“I talked to her and to Mr. Dangerfield. Mr. Dangerfield took me to the place upstairs in his house where he saw through, but he said he could not hear nothing, and what he saw was mighty little. Mrs. Joice said she did not hear nor see a thing.”

The prosecuting attorney was frowning; Mr. Trevillian, the real prosecutor, sat looking as if this were all far too much for his sadly limited understanding.

The prosecutor’s attorney elected to cross-examine.

“When did this conversation with Mrs. Joice and Mr. Dangerfield occur, Mr. Jones? Please be explicit.”

“Eh?”

“Absolutely clear.”

“Oh, aye. Happened the next day when I went to see Willy-Mr. Insell the accused, that is-at Jacob’s Well. Heard the story from him and asked the neighbors what they had seen and heard. Mrs. Joice-who ain’t a missus!-said she did not hear or see nothing. Mr. Dangerfield showed me the place he saw from, but when I looked, I could not see nothing.”

Mrs. Joice was recalled, and explained that naturally she had denied seeing or hearing anything next door-she was not the sort of woman to encourage snoopers!

Mr. Dangerfield was recalled, and repeated that he had never said he could hear, only see.

“Call Mr. James Hyde!” said the prosecuting attorney loudly. Richard’s counsel jumped, looked startled. “Not you, my learned colleague. Mr. James Hyde, servant to Mr. Trevillian’s mother.”

This James Hyde was a small, sandy man in his fifties with the unobtrusive and faintly obsequious air of a senior house servant. He stated that Mr. Dangerfield had come to see him on the first of October and informed him that a Robert Jones had told him that for the sum of five guineas, he could prove that Morgan had plotted with his wife to rob Mr. Trevillian.

The jury stirred and muttered, Sir James Eyre the judge sat up straighter.

“A plot, Mr. Hyde?”

“Yes, sir, a plot.”

“Did it involve Mr. Insell too?”

“Mr. Dangerfield did not say it did. Morgan and Mrs. Morgan.”

Recalled, Mr. Dangerfield admitted that he had gone to Mrs. Maurice Trevillian’s house to see his friend Mr. James Hyde and told Hyde of Robert Jones’s offer.

On re-examination, Mr. Robert Jones said that all of this was true. He knew Mr. Dangerfield was friendly with the Trevillian household, and he was a bit short of money, so…

“What of this plot between Morgan and his wife to rob Mr. Trevillian? Did it exist?” asked the prosecuting attorney.

“Oh, aye,” said Robert Jones cheerfully. “But Willy were not in on it, on my oath.”

“Ye’re on your oath, Mr. Jones.”

“Oh, aye, so I am!”

“How did ye know of this plot?”

“Mrs. Morgan told me.”

More stirs from the jury and judge.

“When?”

“At-oh, a bit after noon on the day it happened, when I came to see Willy the first time. Did not see him, ran into Mrs. Morgan instead. She said she were expecting Mr. Trevillian, but that he would have to come back later, after Morgan had gone to Bath. She were real pleased, said when Mr. Trevillian did come, Morgan would pounce on him for having a bit of slap-and-tickle with her-you know, the sort of thing husbands do when they find out they are wearing horns. She said her husband thought they would get five hundred pounds out of the silly clunch, he were so simple.”

Sir James Eyre looked in the direction of the dock. “Morgan, what have you to say about this plot with your wife?”

“There was no plot, your lordship. I am innocent,” Richard said strongly. “There was no plot.”

His lordship pulled the corners of his mouth down. “Where is Mrs. Morgan?” he demanded of, it seemed, anyone in the court room. “She ought to be in the dock with her husband, so much is clear.” He shot a fierce look at Richard. “Where is your wife, Morgan?”

“I do not know, your lordship. I have never seen her from that day to this,” Richard answered steadily.

The prosecuting attorney made much of the plot and little of the absence of the co-conspirator, Mrs. Morgan. And when Sir James Eyre directed the jury, he too made much of the plot.

The twelve good men and true looked at each other in enormous relief. In less than a minute they could go home. It had been a very long, hard day; Gloucester’s Free Men were nowhere near enough to staff separate juries for each accused. There was no deliberation. Richard Morgan was found not guilty of stealing a watch, but guilty of grand larceny in the matter of extortion. William Insell was found not guilty on all counts.

Sir James Eyre turned his gaze to the dock, wherein Willy had sunk to his knees, weeping, and the shorn Richard Morgan-what a villain!-stood staring at something a great deal farther off than Gloucester’s city hall.

“Richard Morgan, I hereby sentence ye to seven years’ transportation to Africa. William Insell, ye may go free.” He banged his gavel to wake Sir George Nares up. “The court will come together again at ten of the clock tomorrow morning. God save the King.”

“God save the King,” everybody echoed dutifully.

The javelin man prodded the prisoners; Richard turned to descend into the dock well without bothering to look in Mr. John Trevillian Ceely Trevillian’s direction. Ceely had passed from his life as all things passed. The Ceelys did not matter.

And by the time he had plodded halfway back to Gloucester Gaol Richard found himself truly happy; he had just realized that very shortly he would be rid of Weeping Willy.

The sunwas nudging the western horizon when Richard and Willy-still weeping, presumably from joy-passed through the castle gate under escort by two gaolers. Here Richard was detained, Willy sent onward. Is this the beginning of the difference between a man awaiting trial and a convicted felon? His gaoler indicated the head gaoler’s house; Richard moved off as passively as he did everything under an official eye. After three months he knew all the gaolers, good, bad and indifferent, though he avoided striking up any sort of acquaintance with them and never called any by his name.

He was ushered into a comfortable-looking room furnished as a place for social congress. It contained three people: Mr. James Hyde the attorney and the Cousins James. Both the Cousins James were in tears and Mr. Hyde looked mournful. In fact, thought Richard as the door was closed behind him with his escort on its far side, they look worse than I feel. This has come as no surprise, I knew it would happen thus in my bones. Justice is blind, but not in the romantic sense they taught us at Colston’s. It is blind to individuals and human motives; its dispensers believe the obvious and are incapable of subtleties. All of that witness testimony from the Jacob’s Well people had its roots in gossip; Ceely merely entered the gossip chain and contributed the right mite. Robert Jones he paid-well, he paid all of them, but save for Jones he was able to disguise his payments as thoughtful gifts to folk who know him and his family and its servants. Oh, they understood! But on oath they could deny had anybody asked. Jones he bought outright. Or else Annemarie fed Jones the story of the plot. In which case she belonged to Ceely body and soul, was involved in the conspiracy from its beginning. If that is so, then she lay in wait for me and all of it was a fabulous lie. I have been convicted on the testimony of a witness who did not appear: Annemarie Latour. And the judge, having asked me where she was, did not follow through.